


The Light Slipping Through

by cheerios_and_wine



Series: How Do You Want Me? [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), But Mostly Comfort, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Pet Names, Talking about Sex and Consent, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginismus, a little bit of, accidental breach of boundaries, this is very soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23144404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheerios_and_wine/pseuds/cheerios_and_wine
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale are together Post-Apocanot but Crowley's been hiding part of himself during sex. Can he trust that Aziraphale will accept him as he is?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: How Do You Want Me? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1855765
Comments: 38
Kudos: 224





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from When Am I Gonna Lose You by Local Natives.
> 
> Shout out to [Cheesecloth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesecloth) for reading this and cheerleading me on! I couldn't have finished without your support!
> 
> See end notes for content warnings.

He squirms away from Aziraphale's hand, barely a centimeter, but the movement is enough to make the angel pause.

"Crowley?" 

Crowley refuses to meet his gaze. He tries to guide Aziraphale's hand back to his center, but Aziraphale is the one pulling away now.

"Sorry, angel. Surprised me, that's all. I'm ready now." Crowley attempts a smile. Judging by Aziraphale's furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, he's not convinced.

Aziraphale sits back on his heels and instead of reaching towards Crowley's vulva again, he takes his hands

"Crowley, dearest, this can wait." His thumbs stroke his knuckles. "There's no rush. You don't have to be ready right now."

Crowley stares at their hands, tries to focus on breathing normally and keeping his body still. The last thing he needs right now is to start shaking like some cowering plant. 

Aziraphale's fingers feel soft against his hands, and his voice is soft too. "What do you need, my love? We don't have to continue this tonight."

Shame bubbles up and he wants to hide, curl up somewhere alone and berate his broken body, get away from Aziraphale's kind hands and gentle words. _He should've expected this to go wrong, should've planned it better, Aziraphale deserves the world and he's letting him down with his stupid vagina that doesn't work, can't manage the one function it's intended for, of all the corporations to be stuck in he's got the one that can't-_

"Crowley." Aziraphale's voice cuts through his thoughts. He lifts one of Crowley's hands to his face and brushes his lips over it. "Let me help you, my dear. You don't have to say anything. We don't have to do anything until you're comfortable."

Crowley almost protests again but Aziraphale moves to lie down beside him, carefully repositioning the demon to be tucked up against him. They nestle side by side, Crowley's head under Aziraphale's chin and Aziraphale's wide arms wrapped around him. He realizes how tight he'd been clenching his muscles. He takes in a slow breath, and another. Aziraphale has miracled his — no, their — pyjamas on. It’s embarrassing and relieving. He feels his face heat up and redirects his attention to breathing, relaxing, calming his thundering heart.

"Never managed to do it with this effort before." It's easier, somehow, to whisper this confession into the dark room with Aziraphale at his back. He doesn’t have to face his lover’s piercing gaze or expose his own, entirely too expressive eyes. Aziraphale strokes one hand up Crowley's arm, waiting for him to continue. Crowley breathes in, forces more words out with the next exhale. "It doesn't work right. Can't get anything in it. 'S not like, not like a hymen, can't just pop it open. That’s how it's s’posed to work, innit? Y'know, everyone says the first time hurts but then it works, right? But mine's broken, can't even manage to have a first time to get it over with."

He cuts off his ramble with a self-derisive snort. Aziraphale continues to pet his arm. After a moment he breaks the silence. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I never want to cause you pain."

Crowley interrupts him, "Nah, don't worry, angel. It didn't really hurt, just then. You barely touched me. I just remembered how it usually goes and got jumpy."

"Still. I hate to see you in pain. And I don't want to give you any discomfort if it can be avoided."

"I know, angel. I-" Crowley hesitates. "I don't want to let you down with my weird, defective vagina. We were having a good time until I had to go and ruin it."

"Shhhh, my love. Your body could never let me down. I love you, all of you. I don't need you to force yourself through pain to be with me. I’m only enjoying it as long as you are too."

The hand that's been caressing his arm moves higher, runs through his hair and grazes over his cheek. Crowley lets out a shaky breath. He allows Aziraphale to soothe him, slowly relaxing again.

Aziraphale continues softly, "Thank you for trusting me. For telling me what was wrong. Rest now, dearest. We can talk about it again later, when you’re comfortable." 

Crowley gives a faint nod. He snuggles in closer. He luxuriates in Aziraphale’s warmth, focuses on the feel of the plush belly at his back, the arms cradling him, the hand slowly carding through his hair. The shame and anxiety melt away, for the moment at least. Here in Aziraphale's arms he doesn't need to be afraid. 

***

Sunlight streams in through the windows. Aziraphale must have used a miracle to raise the black out shades Crowley insists they have in the bedroom, because he’s still wrapped around him. Crowley groans at the light and closes his eyes again. Aziraphale chuckles.

“Good morning, love.”

“Nguh.”

“Yes, I think it is a lovely day!”

Crowley grumbles louder and rolls over to glare at his infuriatingly chipper lover. Aziraphale beams at him, brighter than the sun. He plants a kiss on Crowley’s nose and he sputters and blushes, irritation forgotten.

“There you are, darling. Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm, yeah. Guess so.”

Crowley had slept long and deep. He always does when Aziraphale is close by. On most nights Aziraphale reads beside him in bed until morning. He still rarely sleeps, even after months of living with his sleep-loving demon.

“You held me all night, huh? Weren’t you planning to read some poet or other last night? Saw you grabbed a book before we — uhhh,” his words die in his mouth as the rest of the evening comes rushing back in an instant. _Aziraphale selecting a book, Crowley sneaking up behind to press kisses to his neck, more kisses and touches causing them to fall into bed, the book left behind on the nightstand. They’d been so eager, so ravenous to touch one another, tearing each other’s clothes off more recklessly than usual. And Crowley was so overcome with lust he forgot to switch his effort._

“Uhh, look, about last night, ah,” he struggles to find anything to say to cover his mortification. He couldn’t hide his rising blush if he miracled it away. How could he have forgotten something so crucial? And then gone and made a mess of the whole evening? He always, always swaps out his everyday-wear genitals for a cock as soon as one of them starts seducing the other. He finds a vulva more comfortable under his skintight clothes and going without anything altogether is distasteful to him in a way he can’t quite describe. But he never intended to let it enter their sex life.

He can’t come up with any explanation that isn’t humiliating, so he opts for a change of tone. “‘M sorry that didn’t go as planned. Let me make it up to you?” 

He attempts a sauve grin and reaches for Aziraphale beneath the blankets.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale’s tone is admonishing. He bats his hand away from his waistband. “I will not accept any apologies. I want you to tell me if we ever need to stop or go slower. And no, I will not let you ‘make it up to me.’ Sex isn’t a transaction and you don’t owe me anything.”

Crowley flushes deeper. He has to be as red as Lucifer by now.

Aziraphale’s voice softens. “Please believe me, dearest. We can stop anytime for any reason. You don’t have to worry about maintaining a seductive mood. Your well-being matters far more to me than having an orgasm. You know that, right?”

He strokes the hair out of Crowley’s face, and Aziraphale’s eyes are so earnest when they meet that the demon closes his, the care and devotion overwhelming him for a moment.

“I know, angel, I know,” he murmurs. He presses his forehead to Aziraphale’s and tries not to let a tremble enter his voice. “You’re wonderful. You make me feel so safe. I just get stuck in my own head sometimes. ‘S hard to break millennia-old habits y’know?”

He cracks an eye open and there’s understanding in his angel’s face.

“Of course, darling. We’ll work on this together. You’ve helped me break free from so many of my own harmful beliefs and habits. Let me be there for you too.” He seals his words with a string of chaste kisses across Crowley’s face.

A few moments later he speaks again, “I admit, I have been curious why you change your effort every time we have sex, but I didn’t want to force the subject if you weren’t comfortable. I was hoping you would tell me eventually. But I should have asked before touching you last night. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the opportunity to say no or explain first. I crossed a boundary that I should have respected.”

Regret colors his words and he looks so ashamed of himself. Crowley rushes to correct him.

“Nonononono, Aziraphale, ‘s alright. I’m not upset or angry at you about it. You didn’t know. I’ve just been too embarrassed to tell you about my problem. I didn’t want it to get in the way of us having fun.”

Aziraphale looks like he’s about to object to that last statement and Crowley hurries to clarify himself.

“I mean, I always have fun with you. With our usual efforts. It’s good, angel, really good. You drive me wild with lust. And I got so carried away last night I forgot to swap everything around. And I don’t hide that effort because I think you’d hurt me or force me, I know you never would. I just couldn’t figure out how to say, ‘Look, this set of genitals doesn’t work the way you expect it to and it’ll be painful if you touch me the wrong way.’”

“Well, you could’ve said it like that I suppose,” Aziraphale says good-naturedly. Crowley wants to be annoyed, but the humour sparkling in his lover’s eyes eases his tension. It’s okay, Aziraphale isn’t mad or offended. They can loosen up and joke a little.

“Okay, fine, sure, I could have said something like that. But, demon here, remember? I’m not good at this honesty stuff.”

“Darling, you’ve taught me more about honesty than anyone I’ve ever met.” Another kiss, this one between his eyes, stops any objection from Crowley.

Aziraphale gives a thoughtful hum. “Would you be able to tell me more about it so I know what to avoid in the future? Can you describe what hurts? Is any touch painful?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean no. I mean yeah, I’ll try to explain it better. And no, not all touching hurts. Only if I try to get anything inside of me. That’s usually near impossible, feels like a solid wall. But, uh, the rest of it still works like it should, I s’pose? I get off with my clit sometimes.” He’s blushing again. He’s a 6000 year old demon Someone-damnit, and he’s been fucking his angel for months, and he still can’t say ‘clit’ without blushing.

Aziraphale strokes his hair and the familiar comfort grounds him.

“I’m glad it isn’t all painful. Maybe one day you can show me how you like to play with it best? If you want to and feel comfortable that is. We can take any of this as slow as you like.”

Crowley nods, “Yeah, that would probably be okay.”

Aziraphale kisses his forehead. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Uh, well, sometimes I try to see if I can fit anything in, see if it’s changed. Oh don’t give me that look, I’m not deliberately trying to hurt myself. I just, just get frustrated that I can’t control it. And I’m curious, y’know? There’s apparently all sorts of pleasures I’m missing out on because my hole won’t open. Anyway, sometimes I can get one finger inside me, if I’ve done a lot of prep. Still haven’t discovered any mind-blowing ecstasy that way, though. Been a bit of a let down really.”

If Aziraphale gathers that ‘bit of a let down’ is an understatement, he doesn’t address it and Crowley is grateful. There’s only so much vulnerability and compassion he can submit to in one sitting and he’s reaching his limit. It’s barely 9 am, far too early to lay out all his insecurities.

“So, anyway. What do you say we go to the cafe you like so much? Get you some of those fresh baked scones you’re always raving about?” He grins and to his relief, Aziraphale smiles back, accepting the change in subject.

“Mmm that sounds excellent, my dear. You can get one of those sugary monstrosities you call coffee. Perhaps we could walk to the park afterwards. We can feed the ducks together."

The prospect of a day filled with normal, benign activities warms him. It feels like reassurance that nothing has changed between them. Not that he’s been expecting Aziraphale to break up with him, or do anything else so drastic, over revealing his secret. But after waiting 6000 years to be free to be together, he wants everything to be perfect. And having a faulty sex organ is not part of his perfect fantasy. Then again, actually being in a romantic and sexual relationship with Aziraphale is far more delightful and fulfilling than any of his fantasies had ever been. Awkward conversations about sex and feelings can’t take away his joy now.

Aziraphale unentwines himself from Crowley and sits up. He turns away and reaches for his dressing gown. 

“Hey, Aziraphale?” Crowley says. He bites his lip.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” 

Aziraphale turns back to him, beaming again. Crowley struggles to say the words sometimes, preferring to demonstrate his feelings with actions, but he had an urge to say them now. Aziraphale looks at him so fondly and Crowley doesn’t try to hide his eyes. 

“I know, dearest. I love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale has the loveliest hands. Crowley’s captivated by them. He steals glances as those hands turn the pages of a novel, or repair a delicate tome, or straighten his waistcoat. Aziraphale’s palms are soft against his own when they hold hands in the park. The back of his hand caressing Crowley’s cheek feels like worship, and it’s blasphemous, leaves him reeling, drunk on the slightest touch. Then there’s Aziraphale’s fingers. They’re deft and quick as he plays with Crowley’s hair. Some evenings Aziraphale runs his fingers through the fiery locks over and over, twisting and braiding the strands only to undo it and start it all again. Crowley sinks into a deliciously drowsy headspace as the pressure of the fingertips against his scalp and the light tugs on the ends relax him completely.

Oh yes, he loves Aziraphale’s fingers. They’re beautiful and plump, like the rest of the angel’s corporation. Crowley’s been daydreaming about what else Aziraphale can do with those gentle, thick fingers. What other wicked talents does he possess with his hands? If he could take them inside his body, how would Aziraphale please him? He’s already intimately familiar with how skillful Aziraphale’s hands are on his cock and, a more recent development, his clit too. The angel is fantastic in bed after centuries of practice with humans and Crowley falls to pieces under his touch. 

Still, despite how much he enjoys their sex life, he can’t escape his frustration that his vagina won’t cooperate with his desires. He’s so curious over what he might be missing out on. Aziraphale hasn’t tried to touch his entrance at all since the evening Crowley forgot to switch efforts, though Crowley has gradually become more comfortable using his vulva during sex over the last few months.

In the past, during solo explorations of his junk, Crowley has occasionally managed to slide one finger inside himself. It’s a process that involves lots of lube, warming up with his external bits, and deep breaths. He’s never completely sure what to do once he’s managed to insert one long, skinny finger in the impossibly tight passage. Experiments in moving or thrusting the finger about has yet to yield much ecstasy. It just feels a bit odd. Maybe that part is defective too. Or maybe it needs something more skillful. Something like Aziraphale’s fingers.

One evening he sits cross-legged in front of the sofa, feeling boneless as Aziraphale weaves patterns into his hair. The fingers in his mane and his relaxed state of mind lower his inhibitions more than the wine they had with dinner. Before he can overthink it, he opens his mouth.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Will you finger me? My cunt I mean? I’d like to try it again with you. Properly this time.”

Aziraphale’s hands don’t stop or lose their place in his hair, but they do slow just a little. He waits a moment before responding.

“You’ll tell me to stop if it hurts you?”

“Yeah, angel. ‘Course.”

“Alright.” Aziraphale finishes the braid, reaches around and wraps those lovely fingers around one of Crowley’s hands. He draws it up to his face, breathes a barely-there kiss onto the knuckles. “If you’re ready, I’m happy to do anything you’d like.” 

Crowley swallows, hopes he won’t mess this up, won’t freeze or panic or-

A kiss against his jawbone, below his ear startles him out of the beginning of a worry-spiral. Aziraphale places more kisses along the line of his jaw. Crowley frees his held hand and reaches to cup Aziraphale’s face. He tries to run his hand up through the soft white curls but the angle is wrong and he almost pokes him in the eye. Aziraphale chuckles and Crowley whines, “Angel, this isn’t fair! I can’t even kiss you back in this position!”

“Well get over here then, silly,” Aziraphale says with a laugh.

Crowley twists around, climbs into his lap, and kisses him. Mouths part, their breath intermingles, and Crowley presses his tongue in. Aziraphale moans in delight and Crowley shivers at the sensation. For several long moments they get lost in the kiss, neither needing a break to breathe. Hands slide up backs, down arms, into hair, caress each other’s faces and chests. Crowley’s plait comes undone and he groans as Aziraphale digs his fingers in, tugging him back and pulling him close again. He nips Aziraphale’s lower lip. That earns a deep moan and Aziraphale shifts beneath him. A hard bulge brushes against his crotch and Crowley feels a shock of electricity course through him.

“Aziraphale,” he whines, “need you. Need to feel you right now. Too many clothes, ugh, fuck.”

“Mmmm, I love the way you say my name,” Aziraphale murmurs. He rocks up against him, deliberately this time, and Crowley’s losing his mind.

“Aziraphale, please!” He’s begging now and he’s too lost in desire to feel any shame. “Please, want to feel you. Want you to feel me.”

“All in good time, dearest. I’m going to savour you,” Aziraphale says. Crowley shivers again.

Aziraphale kisses him again, harder. His hands move lower, grab Crowley, and urge him to grind down in his lap. Crowley does, picking up the pace. The friction feels incredible but it’s not enough to satisfy him yet. He’s sure his pants must be soaked through by now. He vaguely wonders if there’s a spot visible on his trousers, if Aziraphale can feel it. Then the angel does something wicked with his teeth and Crowley loses any coherent train of thought.

Aziraphale bites and sucks his neck. He licks a stripe down from his ear, blows on the wet area to elicit another shudder from Crowley. There’s a gentle nibble against the pulse point at the base of his neck, followed by sharper nips along his collar bone. Crowley babbles nonsense as Aziraphale’s mouth finds all his favorite places.

Crowley keeps his eyes closed, rocks harder, lets the blissful sensations build higher. He shifts his position slightly, and _oh_ , there’s the perfect spot. Aziraphale’s cock presses up against his clit exactly right and he gasps as they rut against each other. 

A few more thrusts, one more searing bite against his neck, and he’s tumbling over the edge, breaking apart, falling through pleasure so intense and bright he can’t focus on anything else.

When he can finally open his eyes again, Aziraphale is right there, smiling so brightly.

“Mmngfhh,” he tries, but his mouth can’t form words yet, so he leans forward and kisses him instead. After a moment, they break apart, and Crowley remembers that he’d had other ideas for how this night was supposed to go. He narrows his eyes but Aziraphale is anticipating his complaint and gives him a cheeky grin.

“You didn’t think that’s all I wanted, did you darling?” he asks. He brings a hand between them and cups Crowley’s groin. “This is capable of multiple climaxes, remember? We’ve only gotten started.”

“Ngk,” Crowley says. 

His eyes are blown wide, fully snakelike. Aziraphale’s blue eyes are half lidded as he looks Crowley up and down. He appears ready to devour him. Aziraphale gives his clothed crotch a brief squeeze and Crowley whimpers. 

“Let’s get you out of these now, hmm?” Aziraphale says with a smirk. 

***

“You’re a bastard,” Crowley gasps.

“I’m your bastard, darling,” Aziraphale says lightly. He lowers his head back down and Crowley lets out a low moan.

Aziraphale has Crowley spread out naked before him on their bed. Crowley isn’t sure when or how they moved from the sofa in the back room to the bedroom upstairs, but he’s too blissed out to care. He’s on the cusp of his third orgasm of the evening and Aziraphale is still mostly dressed. All Crowley had managed to do was remove his cardigan and bowtie and open a few buttons of his shirt before Aziraphale had pushed him backwards into the pillows and sunk down between his legs. Practiced, clever hands had him undressed and writhing in ecstasy in moments. 

Now, an eternity later, Crowley is trembling beneath the delicious torture of Aziraphale’s tongue. He’s dragging out the build up to the next climax, keeping Crowley on the edge. He teases with tiny, faint licks that barely touch him, make him arch upwards for more contact, more pressure, more more more. Aziraphale presses his hips back down to sheets. 

The angel catches his eye and for a moment Crowley loses himself in awe at the sight of him between his thighs. Then Aziraphale flicks his tongue just so and Crowley shudders, eyes rolling back.

“Azzziraphale, pleassse,” he hisses. 

Aziraphale raises his head and licks his lips, “Feeling desperate?” He chuckles. “I’m enjoying this so much. I don’t think we should take this one too quickly. Don’t you agree, my dear?”

His eyes sparkle dangerously.

Crowley watches, mouth open, as Aziraphale trails one finger — slowly, ever so slowly — up his thigh, around his hip bone, over his mound. He drags it with delicate precision over the hood of his clit and between his folds before stroking up again, keeping the pressure feather-light. Crowley twitches helplessly. Aziraphale makes a hum of appreciation and continues petting him leisurely.

“Gorgeous,” he whispers as Crowley trembles again. “I think I could do this for hours. Days, perhaps.”

Crowley whimpers. He tries to shift up again, gain more of the delicious sensations, but Aziraphale holds him down with apparently little effort. He strokes him lazily, his gaze taking in all of Crowley’s reactions — the muscles of his lithe body taut and straining, fingers grasping at the sheets, eyes squeezed shut, breath coming in quick gasps and and small whines.

“Mmmm, yes, that’s an enchanting idea. But not the goal for tonight, I know. Thank you for indulging me for so long. I would enjoy seeing you climax once more now,” Aziraphale says. 

With that, he dives his face back in, licking and sucking ravenously. The sudden onslaught is overwhelming and Crowley can’t think or breathe or do anything but feel the glorious electric pleasure. Aziraphale doesn’t stop, just presses him harder down into the bed as he bucks wildly. He’s flying, erupting, falling to pieces and his peak seems unending as that celestial tongue pushes him higher. He realizes distantly that he’s shouting Aziraphale’s name. 

The impossible climax fades gradually and he resettles into his body, registering his thighs clamped tight around the head there and his fists clenched in the cloud of fluffy hair. He eases his grip and gives his lover a shaky grin.

Through the haze of his afterglow, he thinks that Aziraphale has never been lovelier. He’s a mess: downy curls sticking up every direction, round cheeks red from his exertion, lips and chin dripping with his spit and Crowley’s juices. His angel looks thoroughly debauched and utterly divine. Crowley briefly wonders if he could come again just from this vision.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Aziraphale asks. He’s gazing at him with so much adoration, like Crowley is the center of his universe. Crowley’s still panting, eyes blown wide, hair spread wild over the sheets. 

“Like, like ‘m gonna die if you keep doing that thing with your tongue.”

Aziraphale’s answering smile is smug, then softens once more into a caring expression. “Do you feel ready to try some p-”

“Do not say penetration, Aziraphale,” Crowley groans.

“Very well,” Aziraphale says primly, “do you think you’re prepared enough now?”

“Yeah, think so. Never came so damn much. Think I’m as relaxed as I can get.”

“You’ve been doing so well. I’m proud of you.” Aziraphale smooths his sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “Let’s start with one of your fingers. They’re a bit smaller than mine.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good, angel.”

Aziraphale reaches over to the nightstand, opens a drawer, and fishes out a bottle of lube. Crowley tries to quell the butterflies that flicker inside him. He takes in a deep breath and Aziraphale pauses and searches his face.

“‘M good, just focusing. I want this.” Crowley says. He meets blue eyes and hopes he looks as confident as he’s trying to feel. 

“We’ll take this as slow as you need. If we need to stop we’ll stop.” 

Crowley grabs one of Aziraphale’s hands and kisses his palm. Aziraphale cups his cheek and he closes his eyes. They sit quietly for a moment. The room is still and Crowley breathes in and out. Feels his heartbeat slow again, matching the tiny, steady pulse he can feel in Aziraphale’s thumb. It’s strange, he muses, how neither of them need a heartbeat or breath, and yet it’s so natural.

When he opens his eyes again he reaches for the lube with certainty. He’s still so wet from Aziraphale’s attentions that the lube might not even be necessary, but he knows Aziraphale will fuss if he doesn’t take every precaution. He slides slick fingers over his clit and through his folds. He’s still oversensitive from his last orgasm and shivers a little. Aziraphale is settled between his legs again, watching him intently, his focus alternating between his face and his hand. He rubs one of his hands up and down Crowley’s thigh and the soothing touch helps him keep his muscles loose. 

Crowley slides his hand lower and feels for his entrance. On a slow exhale, he presses a fingertip in, and to his relief, his body lets him in. He rests for a moment, pressed in to just the first knuckle. When there’s no ache — it barely even feels like a stretch tonight — he slides it in deeper.

“How does it feel, my dear?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley gives him a little grin. “‘S okay. No pain.”

Aziraphale hums approvingly. “You’re doing so well,” he says.

“You’ve got a magic touch, angel. Made me feel so good.”

They lie quietly for a few minutes while Crowley lets his body adjust. Aziraphale scatters kisses over his thighs and hips with a sense of lazy indulgence. Eventually Crowley decides he’s ready for more and pulls his hand away. He motions Aziraphale closer.

Aziraphale gets lube and gives his vulva a couple gentle strokes. “You’re so lovely, darling. Stay relaxed now. Tell me how it feels.” Then he’s pushing one finger against him with agonizing slowness. There’s still a considerable amount of resistance. A mix of apprehension and disappointment washes over Crowley. He mentally shakes it off and wills his body to loosen up.

“Alright?” Aziraphale’s watching his face. 

“Y-yeah,” he says shakily, “keep going.”

There’s a burning pressure at his entrance. Crowley lets out a slow exhale. _Relax, relax, relax_ he chants inwardly. Aziraphale pushes so slow, firm without being overly forceful. He isn’t even in to the first knuckle. There’s barely any give. The muscles simply refuse to open any wider than the width of his own small finger. Aziraphale shifts his hand, trying a slightly different angle to press deeper. A sharper, biting pain almost makes Crowley gasp. _Fuck. It’s not going to work. Fuckfuckfuck._

“Aziraphale, stop.” Crowley spits the words out, teeth gritted and eyes closed. Aziraphale responds instantly, withdrawing his hand cautiously to avoid hurting him any further. Crowley’s head flops back against the pillows and he lets out a ragged breath. Aziraphale is already reaching up to meet him, gathering him in his arms.

“I’m here, darling, I have you,” comes his whisper.

“Angel, I’m s-”

“Shhh, none of that. I won’t have you apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Crowley buries his face in his shoulder. “I thought I could do it this time, I thought it was working, we were so close-”

A sob escapes him and he clenches his entire body tighter, willing the tears to say in, to not fall apart completely. Aziraphale rubs his back in circles. His touch coaxes some of the tension away. When he speaks his words catch Crowley off-guard.

“I’m proud of you, my love, for telling me to stop. I know it was difficult for you to say it. Thank you for listening to your body. Thank you for not pushing yourself through pain. Thank you for trusting me to stop. I will always, always stop the moment you ask.” Aziraphale continues to massage his back, holding him as close as he can.

The outpouring of praise feels like a knife in his chest, or an arrow through his heart, (is there a difference?) and Crowley feels an urge to flee. But Aziraphale is right there, holding him, murmuring love into his hair, keeping him present.

“Aziraphale, how do you say things like that? Like you don’t mind? Surely you want to be able to go further, fuck me for real, ‘stead of settling for this?” His words are too revealing and he cringes, immediately wanting to snatch them back.

“No,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley blinks.

"Do you know how beautiful you are? I feel like a god when I'm giving you pleasure. Watching you come is the loveliest thing I've ever seen. I'm honoured and delighted every time I get to share these moments with you. So don't you dare think I'm settling for less. I don't care how we have sex. I don’t need you to perform certain acts for me. I want you to enjoy yourself and feel safe and comfortable. I want to see you come apart under my hands and lips and I want to bring you to heights of pleasure you've never had before. And I hope you know that that's all I care about. Just being with you is all I've ever wanted. I’ve loved you and lusted for you for centuries. For far longer than I would have admitted to myself before I chose you. And I have chosen you, entirely and unconditionally. I’m here with you on our side, for better or worse. But believe me, dearest, nothing about sex with you is worse. It’s all expressions of my love for you."

Crowley clings tighter to Aziraphale. He tries and fails to hold back a sniffle. Then the dam breaks and he cries and cries and cries.

"Oh darling, oh my darling, you lovely thing," Aziraphale whispers, "I have you, it's alright, I'm here, I've got you. You're safe. I have you. My lovely darling, shhh, just relax."

His words gradually dissolve into light murmurs, nothing really intelligible, but the comforting sentiment is there. Crowley lets the waves of love wash over him. He's floating, safe and accepted and free to let his tears soak Aziraphale's shirt. 

After a while (time lost all meaning as he let himself just feel and forget everything else) he raises his head and gives his lover a dopey, tear-stained smile. 

"You're so good to me, angel. Love you." He chuckles. “I just hope sex doesn’t keep ending in my crying like a baby though.”

“You can cry as much as you like,” Aziraphale says, “and I will hold you as long as you need.”

Crowley doesn’t have anything he can say to that, so he closes his eyes and readjusts his position until he’s draped over Aziraphale.

“Hey,” he says, “did you get anything out of all that earlier? I know, I know, ‘s not a transaction, but I like pleasing you too, you know.”

“Tonight was about you and your pleasure. Ah, although,” Aziraphale hesitates, and is that a hint of embarrassment coloring his words? “I did make a bit of a mess of my pants when I was performing cunnilingus on you.”

Crowley’s head shoots up. “You what? Just from eating me out?” His golden eyes are wide with amazement. A giggle escapes him. He raises a hand to snap. “There. Fixed that for you.” 

Aziraphale clears his throat, a blush rising in his cheeks. “Thank you. That was a tad uncomfortable.”

Crowley smirks at him and then they both dissolve into helpless laughter. It’s magical, deep-bellied laughter that shakes their bodies and leaves them gasping for air. They’re both a wreck, covered in sweat and tears and lube, but it doesn’t matter. Their dishevelment adds to the absurdity and utter delight fills him as their laughter carries them higher. He loves Aziraphale so damn much, this prissy bastard, this angel too kind for Heaven, this lover who takes care of him so well, who loves him through all of his messiness. Who comes in his pants like a horny teenager from servicing his partner. They laugh together until Crowley feels like his face might fall off and his sides are cramping. Eventually they quiet, their corporations unable to go on laughing any longer. 

The evening had a decent conclusion after all, Crowley decides a little while later. He lies weary on Aziraphale’s chest, all emotions wrung out of him except a deep sense of security. The room is dark and still. All is quiet except for their hushed breaths, rhythmic and soothing. Aziraphale holds him as they drift off into dreamless sleep together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please note that this fic doesn't depict a realistic treatment of vaginismus.

**Author's Note:**

> CW: I selected Choose Not To Warn because while I don't think the story needs a noncon warning, someone else might read it differently. There's a breach of boundaries but they stop and discuss what went wrong. There's a line that could imply Crowley has been assaulted by others in the past, but I don't think you have to read it that way. Also Crowley uses some ableist language towards himself.


End file.
